Worth
by scarlettmarch
Summary: AU- Rory's musings on her as of yet unromantic relationship with Jess. Is it worth it? Literati


Author: Scarlettmarch

Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls.

Summary: AU- Rory's musings on her as of yet unromantic relationship with Jess. The kiss at Sookie's wedding never happened. 

**Worth**

I watch him as he delivers the plates of food to the waiting customers, efficiently swerving between tables and chairs. I suppose I've always been a watcher, silently studying people unnoticed, but I watch Jess more often than I do the other inhabitants of Stars Hollow.

He's still somewhat an enigma to me, try as I may to understand him. But he came into my life one day, without notice, and suddenly I can't remember what it was like before him. 

Before my relationship with Dean had deteriorated, Jess was always trying to widen the gap between Dean and myself. It was around then that I began to wonder if he felt anything for me. But nothing ever happened, and I assumed that it was more of a big brother-type of thing. Just friendly protectiveness.

There were moments- just moments- when I thought he might have cared about me. It would be the way his eye caught mine, the way he stood a little too close at times, or something he said. But they were gone as soon as they appeared, and I was left wondering whether or not they had ever really happened. Was it just my wishful thinking, or was there something there?

Actually, there was one incident where there _was_ something there, undoubtedly. We were at my house, one cold autumn night, watching a movie. It was that John Cusack movie, _High Fidelity_. The one with him and the record store, and the girlfriend? That one. My mom had gone out, and the lights were dimmed. I remember that I had retrieved my pink blanket from my room, and had wrapped it around myself. He grabbed some of it from my hands, and in an effort to have both of us under the blanket, we ended up moving closer, so that our legs were touching as they rested on top of the coffee table.

We had a brief conversation about Queen after one of their songs was played, and my head somehow landed up resting on his shoulder, nestled into his neck. I can still almost smell him, the scent of cologne and clean laundry. He moved slightly, and, thinking that I was hurting him somehow, I pulled away slightly. But before I could, he murmured something quietly, and wrapped his arms around me. I was now lying there, in his arms, with my head resting on his chest. The movie played on, completely forgotten. I was trapped in a world of him, happier than I can ever remember. It was the sort of feeling I got winning spelling bees, just magnified by a million. 

After an eternity or so, the telephone rang, breaking the velvety silence between us. He leapt up to answer it; it was Luke asking where the hell he was. I stood up, feeling deliciously sleepy and a little lightheaded. I walked him to the door, and he fiddled with the collar of his jacket as we stood there. We both said our goodbyes, yet neither made a move. Suddenly, I raised myself up on my toes and wrapped my arms around Jess's neck. I breathed in deeply, desperately trying to save this memory. He tightened his arms around my waist, whispering, "Goodnight, Rory," in my ear, then let go, and left.

And the next day, it was like nothing ever happened.

He wasn't cold, or impersonal; it wasn't that. We were still friends, but that was it. There were no secretive glances, lingering touches, nothing of the sort. Just . . . nothing out of the ordinary.

I obsessed over that night, running over and over the details in my mind, play by play like a football coach going over taped versions of a game. What had I done differently that night? Had I acted unusually? Was it what I wore? The most ridiculous questions kept on popping up, yet left unanswered. There was chemistry that night, I had _felt_ it. And now it was gone, replaced with a silent longing and a growing obsession. 

My search felt quixotic; I was undoubtedly chasing after windmills. But what was I chasing? For once, I had felt pure, unadulterated happiness. Perhaps that. Or the feeling of lying against him, protected. Maybe it was that. I think it must have been a combination of the two: the joy I felt in his arms. I just remember how I had gone to sleep smiling and woke up with the same stupid smile. It was the feeling one gets after watching a good romantic comedy; you know it's silly, but you're still smiling. 

Now I'm sitting here, wondering why nothing's ever happened. Why he never loved me like I loved him. Oh, don't say that he was too scared to tell me. I told him, it would have been easy enough to repeat back my words.

After a few months had passed since that last incident, I found out he was going out with this girl. Leah, was her name. Her eyeliner was always too thick, her shirt revealing a little too much, her hair dyed too many times. I was sitting in the diner, drinking my coffee, looking out the window. Dean sat down across from me, our fizzled romance had evolved into a comfortable friendship. We talked and stared out the window, commenting on passersby. Then, two figures walked by, and I choked on my coffee. Dean, enraptured by the sight in front of us, didn't notice me. "Oh yeah, the new couple. When did they get together? A week or so ago, I think. He looks happier than usual, doesn't he? It's so funny, I always thought he liked you."

Dean's questions were unanswered by me; my mouth open in shock and my eyes widened to gigantic proportions. "I have to go to the bathroom," I said, trying to calm the rising hysteria in my voice. In the bathroom, I lost it. I sunk to the floor, the wall holding me up. My body was racked with sobs, and I was shaking uncontrollably. The tears fell freely, wetting my cheeks and poured into my mouth. I gasped audibly, trying to control myself. I wasn't supposed to be this girl; I didn't want to be this girl. The girl who let her heart be broken, mistakenly thinking that she had been loved. There had been nothing there at all. I hung my head in shame, my face blotchy with anger and humiliation.

I lost track of time. All of a sudden, there was pounding on the door and Dean's concerned voice. I wiped the hot tears from my eyes with the back of my hand, and opened the door. 

"Rory, what happened?" Dean asked.

I gave a short, bitter laugh. "I stubbed my toe on the toilet, it hurts like hell. You know how clumsy I am."

Dean laughed with me, the matter dropped. "I better get going, Dean, see you later," I told him, as I stood on my toes to kiss him on the cheek.

I headed towards the door, but as I reached for the handle, the door opened before me. Jess held it open, letting the girl holding his arm and giggling in first. He didn't even see me for a second, but as I tried to walk past him, he grabbed my arm and spun me to face him. "Hey, Ror," he said casually. "This is Leah."

His touch stung me, as did the tears welling up in my eyes. My heart beat painfully, my stomach all twisted and turned. I felt like I was dying, slowly and torturously. I tried to look anywhere but his eyes, wanting to scream at him, demand to know why he did this. I nodded in her direction, and left. I got home quickly enough, and just lied in my bed, staring at my ceiling. Eventually, sleep overtook me.

The next month or so was difficult, to say the least. The queasy feeling reappeared whenever I thought about him, which was often. I'd be successful in putting him out of my mind, but then I'd read a passage, or listen to a song, and wonder what Jess would think. Then, it'd all come back. I wondered why he chose her over me, what he saw in her. Unintelligent, uninspired, certainly not beautiful. I couldn't even imagine what they talked about. Did they have those conversations that I cherished so dearly? 

Their relationship ended quickly; she dumped him for a member of the football team. I heard he was taking it pretty heard, but hadn't really seen it for myself. I was avoiding him well enough, I couldn't bare to be around him. Then, suddenly and for no reason at all, our relationship was back to normal. It was mutual and unspoken, but there it was. We were back on track, inseparable friends. But we never spoke of her.

One day I was talking to Lane; she was telling me how I ought to tell Jess how I felt. Pathetic as it was, I still loved him. He was my one bad habit, and I couldn't get over him, try as I might. I said that I would, but admitted to her that I could only see myself doing it at a 20 year reunion for the Stars Hollow High School, or something similarly far-off. 

Later that day found me sitting on the bridge with Jess. We were talking about how humans always keep emotions to themselves or something like that. Vehemently, Jess said that he wanted one day where everybody would just tell him the things they had always wanted to say to him, and he could just erase his memory and start over. Jokingly, I asked whether he'd promise to erase his memory. He nodded his head, and we just sat there in silence.

Something possessed me, to this day I don't know what. I just took a deep breath, and told him everything, my tone cool and even. 

"I thought I loved you, I really did. I don't even know what love is. I mean, I know from my mom that it's not usually ever a fairy tale sort of affair, something that's going to last forever. I know I'm young, and naïve, and innocent. But I thought I loved you. And even if it's not real, it felt real, especially when you were with Leah. It felt my like my heart was breaking, and hearts usually don't break if they're not in love, but I don't know. I don't know, but it felt like love. I really do think that I loved you."

I looked him in the eye, and he held my gaze. Still staring at him, I stood up, and walked away. Only when I was out of eyesight did I realize that I spoke in the past tense. Shaking my head at myself, I thought, somewhat comfortingly, that I at least had scored myself a place as a writer for the next Dawson's Creek with my dramatic little monologue back there. 

And again, it was like nothing had ever happened the next day. He didn't refer to my outburst, never made a single comment regarding all I had said. That's what I don't understand most about Jess. He seems so brave, defying conventions and never doing what anybody expects. But do one thing that he doesn't know how to react to, and he buries it somewhere and pretends it never happens. I don't understand him at all.

I'm still sitting here, still thinking about him. Sometimes I feel like I'm squandering my entire life away, thinking about Jess. That when I wake up and it's over, I'll realize that years and emotions and tears were wasted for naught. And yet, it doesn't feel like I'll ever escape from him. I can't imagine a time, no matter how far in the future, when he isn't the one I think about as I lie alone in my bed. I can't fathom a time when I hear a love song, and it doesn't make me think of him. He's always going to be the one there, at least in my mind. 

It reminds me of this passage in The Portable Dorothy Parker; it's in the foreword, the editor is talking about her. He says how she had this demon inside of her, that, given the choice between happiness and misery, she'd always choose misery. I feel like that now. If I were able to just have settled for Dean, I would have been relatively hap- well, happy's not the right word for it, I guess. But I wouldn't have been sad. My love for Jess, that's the demon. He'll always be my downfall, the one person who will cause me pain.

But I have a nagging suspicion that he'll be the only person who'll ever make me happy. And maybe all of this is worth it, then, if there's even the smallest glimmer of a chance. . .

I watch him read, his eyes swiftly scanning the page. By some force between us, he raises his eyes to catch mine. He smiles a little, not letting me look away.

I think he's worth it. 

_LA FIN._

_Hey, it's me again. I'm not quite sure how this turned out; please drop a line and tell me what you think._

_Until next time,_

_Gabrielle _


End file.
